My friends, this fictional short story set just when the heavens and the earth can we unite, we read and quote the message in it yuuk,,,,
I noticed my fingers. Tapered sections, the nails are slender elongated, pink blush, seem gentle and tough. Tapering at the same time tough. Picker harp strings, while paring fruits ripe heaven. Fine hairs curled hair as soft as a child. Similar branches and twigs of the palm of my tree strong hand. I noticed my fingers.
Brownish skin on your hands until your arms looked like a young tree solar. Confidently. Hairs that are attached to the leaves as soft as silk. Put themselves impeccably. Trace and a sense of peace dwells. Part of the same feather tertumbuhi aksiran the blackening was not too thick. Forests in the back of his hand, fringed relative.
Nails are polished like a painted color. But not too conspicuous. Just a flash of lightning is still a light that can make eyes at him. Similar pink rose petals. However, fingers are pointed bersemayamnya place of beauty and solidity as the dancers lean men, but rather contains. Not satisfied I noticed my fingers. The most beautiful part of my body.
Initially had never realized the beauty of the fingers, if only all women who know me do not admire my fingers. They will be closely looked at, and sometimes could not keep his fingers to touch the fingers. Pet her feeling full. As if the whole back of his tenderness and branching on the fingers can reduce vibration at the sight.
I do not know what their orientation. Excessive admiration or sexual orientation are satisfied. Sometimes a woman who touched the back of the palm and fingers creeping up, closed his eyes. Moans that escaped her lips sort of ceremonial intercourse without persenggamaan completely.
Admiration and desire to touch the lyrics are commonplace I receive. A sense of falling love women it makes me more and keep my fingers. Initially with feelings of shame, I asked a friend sister, how to care for palms, fingers, and nails. I never thought girlfriends greeted with a sense of emotion. He was willing to nurse my fingers.
Until the start of each evening, in the backyard of a large house she took care of my fingers. I do not know what he collected the pot. Some flowers, leaves, spices. He will set his eyes before starting the ritual. Massage the entire palm, fingers, with a touch of the hands of trained village. He truly servants.
“Marry me prince, your fingers are the fingers of the most beautiful I have ever met. I will serve you for the fingers are only worthy of the gods plucked zither. Fingers are able to make women bertekuklutut with a single touch. I married a prince, for the fingers that are so beautiful. ”
I can not marry a woman with his fingers wide, though he menghamba me. But apparently her passion for change could be the servants of my fingers. Originally he was allowed to touch and take care of my fingers every evening to come. So I allowed it to feel so jumawa. Has kutaklukan many women, but only he who would serve as such.
Until one day he hurt my fingers. How dare! He gasped for mercy. He said how could he hurt his fingers so beautiful. Fingers are only worthy of a prince possessed. Fingers are friends silk curtains, pillows contain wool, holding cups of gold. But my fingers are hurt makes my heart hurt. The most beautiful part of the body, something that is flawless! I drove them away.
News of the injured fingers came into the country. The women come in and willing to be a substitute for that stupid woman. I watched the whole way. The faces of pleading. As if from behind the whole bodies they shouted: choose me to be pengabdimu. I choose the prince.
Actually I could not refuse them. But the longer I make choices, they face the pleading. Begin audible whimper, cry a tiny fraction of their lips.
“Do you fun of your fingers, making the chest pierced my desires. Choose me or get rid of. I could not resist. Really. ”
They moan singing my arrogance. Telengas manner, I asked them to shake off the fingers go. They tergugu and quietly wept. Yet poignant songs of jubilation jumawaku. Menghamba how every woman ready to finger-finger derived from heaven!
I feel all the women of this country loves my fingers, so I decided to go to the South which, according to the news the women are much prettier. I will conquer them with fingers, fingers that have now been expertly pulled the strings. In fact I just learned in a matter of three times the full moon! But my teacher praised not only the intelligence of my brain, but also my fingers that he came from heaven.
So I went to a tavern in the town where I trample feet first. Do the shades of brown, his desk in the form of shaved wood still looks rough up the texture of the wood. At the edge of a table covered with reddish-brown copper. Similar pillars were the stones were broken up smaller mountains. And each of the pieces show amazing texture and strokes.
The people who come much more exotic, especially the women. A woman who is really lovely to come into the shop. She was more beautiful than flowers though my country. High cheekbones and perfect facial features. Emerald-green eyes like stones. Dark brown hair fluttering reported his arrival. His clothes were pale green with a large flower motif on his subordinates. Attached to the hip that is not a lid. He is the observer himself. The color of clothes he chose to make her eyes more brilliant. And he looked away when eye contact with me.
The music stopped, I walked to the oval-shaped area. I walked amid the hustle and bustle of them. Dawaiku up until I pulled out and started strumming. Slowly the atmosphere was quiet. They were fascinated. In an incandescent light lelampu they really can not see me perfectly. But I’m much can be seen by them, because I was surrounded by a circle lelampu. I’m the center of attention. Above excerpt dawaiku, the fingers are strumming.
I became the center of attention in a matter of seconds. Amazing. These women all over me after the passage dawaiku ended. They are like the women of the king’s castle. Closer and sighed as if she never touched a man. The emerald eyes dark brown hair is one of them. I ruthlessly throw him out. How dare he ignore the guy with the finger came from heaven!
Since then I always attend the festivities. They were invited because of the passage dawaiku, and the women on my fingers. They kept asking, how it feels to have such beautiful fingers. They kept seducing so I’m willing to flirt. I feel like a little king who feel every body with sincerity menghamba.
Each lip offers a different vibration, every body has its own sensation. Groan that was never the same. Pleading whimper, a soft but always pierced eardrums. And my fingers are fantasies nevertheless they are not finished after a night of romance. How they are longing caress, as I stroked the strings are full of feeling. Gently but forcefully membetot occasionally. They menghamba me. And I was secretly longing love.
I met with amethyst in a tavern. Her hair was black bergerai to waist. His clothes are thin maroon. In sharp contrast to his pale skin. The material is thin, his body showed a faint. Passion that he imagined each step. Her hair was allowed to cover her breasts. Glance looks like a rosebud nipples beneath the thin dress.
But more than anything is his eyes. Her subtle color fractions. Blinked so sheen. Each person will either capture the color of his eyes. But all praise for its beauty. Perhaps a similar diamond that he planted there. Shimmering, sparkling fascinate every eye. Plucking fingers always fail when you first saw it. He is as beautiful as Antigone in the imagination.
She was the daughter of a landlord. Rather than among the upper classes who would like to debauchery. Naturally, when he escaped from sight. But I swear it all over the country magnifying son fell in love with him. Suddenly I feel poor with all my being. He was vague as ambrosia in crystal clear. I’m just a crock of copper was burned into his memory.
Unlike other women, she ignored me. Unlike other women too, I do not grudge him. Only know the feeling myself that beauty is too excessive for me. Likewise when I finished plucking, he was closer to me. Only his eyes which he addressed to me with a questioning look, who you are man? -. Break the pride of the conceit. Decorum which should I get the feeling sombongku.
Strangely, I see his face again tomorrow at the shop. Self-esteem increases with a smile that spread is not too obvious. He did not smile for me fully addressed. Exactly as he spread his smile lay a wreath. I feel a sprig. Just spray. But it is a part of himself, the way I capture the absurdity sebetapapun paradigm.
I approached him after the gig. My fingers are sweaty, beauty untold. Manifestation of tenderness and hard work. Slowly my fingers along the edge of the table are coated copper. My skin is brighter than the copper-soaked liquor spill. Fingers tapping like rhythm cavalry. Tried to hitch a proud heart will hadirku.
Unlike other women, looked at my face instead of my fingers amethyst. New kusadar almost perfect shaped lips. Fracturing rose, so fresh. Brilliant teeth peeking between her lips half-open fracturing. He challenged tatapku. Arrogance is a form readable by a jumawa nose. Proud, beautiful, seductive at the same time.
I’m not a man yesterday afternoon, my desire has jumped. Up not just the fingers to seduce his charm. As the words came out of my lips. Poetic phrases that are created without control. Tried to stab his heart fortified arrogance that would not go away. On her eyes I read ketaklukan, but his body remains stiff in place. It only took the time to make pleading, sister. Just takes time.
Was very not easily conquered amethyst. He is not like other women who just loves my fingers. He wants to love me completely. Not just the famous fingers. I am getting the words of sincere love. Until there was war between the countries. Chaos everywhere. I have to hold the gun, practicing war. I had left all the parties and the passage of strings.
I thought the chaos beyond reach. What a misery that war will occur in every corner of the city. Destroyed houses, the streets are shattered, the fatherless children, disease, starvation. People who wallow lifeless are common. On average they were naked because their clothes stolen out of the living.
I witnessed the bitterness of life. In sharp contrast to when I arrived in this country. An instant all the beauty, elegance, laughter has turned frenetic battle. Sometimes the great silence. Sometimes I thought I was dead. Hiding in the hallway like a pack rat. The rats were no longer comfortable in the sewers because we hunt. We are the hunters rats! To then eat it as a main dish.
Has long been seen beauty. The women and children had long since fled. Occasionally we heard the news about our lover or wife. There is a sense of relief from their knowing the surviving brother. I ask those in charge to the back row, about amethyst. Someone gave a red scarf amethyst deposit. According to him, I’m keeping my fingers Ametis request.
I smiled at his joke. How might I be able to keep the fingers and nails? Where ever I think to take care of him, my life was no longer mine? I resigned when an enemy attacked me when I was flax and cut my throat. What is the meaning of all the beauty of the fingers, now? I have long forgotten the praises of women. I took off all the pride had since I knew the deep amethyst. As he loves me, fully intact.
Two months after Ametis send the scarf, the war was over. The woman came back. And we are the men greeted him at the border. I am longing to find amethyst. From a distance I saw her eyes bright. Longing to burst in her eyes sparkled so bright. He hugged me. So hold my fingers.
Both of my fingers wrapped in her red shawl who was cut into two parts. He looked at my fingers with phosphorescent eyes of a bride who would undress her partner, when the first night of arrival. With a soft opening of the red scarf. Slowly, as if my fingers are fragile things. Has gone up to the terujung scarf. He was stunned.
His face was flushed, I figured since the beginning of compassion. But her eyes expressing a deep sense of disappointment. My fingers had turned black. Full of sores. Because scratches weapons, animal bites, or skin disease that crept back of my hand. There was no ex at all, that my fingers are the fingers that can make a woman pleading.
He cried and ran away.
It took three days to meet him. His face was swollen. But beauty remains fascinating. I still wrap my fingers, I knew this was the cause of her tears. Although it is not entirely open what actually makes it run. Jijikkah sense, compassion, mercy excess, or what. From his lips he said the truth.
“I want to love what they are. I do not want to be like other girls who just love the fingers alone. Have you ever wondered if the women will keep you firmly when the fingers were cut? So I do not want to dissolve like other women. But I must say, your fingers are able to make my heart pounding. Even when we first met. I kissed them and how to attach it to the chest. But I do not like other women. I want to love you completely. Until I sometimes imagine how bad your fingers. ”
How beautiful amethyst, her voice trembling is an erratic moods. No matter how he tries to neutralize it with an upright body rigid. Then he again said,
“But I could not. I love your fingers like other women. I avoided the more I realized I really loved your fingers. How I yearned for caresses. I can not lie anymore. I could never love you completely. As it turns out I just love your fingers. ”
There is a tone of apology in his words, but it was stabbed. Ametis never really loved me. He loved his fingers. Fingers which have now been changed so disgusting. I went from the country, in the evening.
Four months I heal all wounds fingers. Now my fingers have healed as usual. The women go back over me offering of love. But I’m frozen. They never really loved me. They just love my fingers. The most beautiful part of my body now makes me feel sick. He wanted me out of it.
I remember the words of amethyst in the final encounter,
“Have you ever wondered if the women will keep you firmly when fingers were cut?”
The words were ringing in my ears. Buzzed for a dozen days. So disturbing. I never imagined this would sort of terror. How I feel now is the scourge of my fingers I do not give up the goods instantly asleep.
Every time I look at my fingers, my stomach felt nauseous and I had wrapped in a cloth. Beauty stab, what fingers to this truth? What if I do not have fingers? What if I only had two fingers, thumb and index finger on right hand? Has never been such a question came to mind. Now the question comes out of nowhere. Yes, two fingers may be enough. To all my activities.
A machete was kuasah all night long. I was able to observe a sharp hair cut. Shiny and I can mirror on the blade. Perfect sharpness. Will cut down all blow. Yes I ended the summit will suffer happy *. Machetes to cut down on my left hand three fingers of my right hand. Bag. With blood drenched me take a machete to the right thumb and left index finger. Had I ignored the flavor. Kutebas up five fingers of my left hand. Bag. I thought it was uprooted. Maybe my life. Until I drifted.
I have been accustomed to living with two fingers. Maybe once I see it as an object that can be proud of. Such as silk clothing or fragrances of spices, something that makes me the respect of the wadag. I sold the body, without any other I know the beauty behind it. The most beautiful part of the remaining, now become so important. I became a little more understanding of the meaning of the fingers. Its existence is inherent in telapakku. All would have made sense, has a function. Once I looked at him now with great wisdom, no longer arrogant. Sometimes I cry looking at my fingers. Kusadar new beauty that far exceeds what is visible.
Now no more attention from women around me. Strange that just made me glad. People call the new call, the stump of a finger. Calls that are not too good actually, but I accept it. I started learning to write stories of life, sometimes the story of the journey of the migrants who began to pack my country. I plan to visit the countries and write it down. Stories of pain, strength, joy, the ritual, the beauty of nature, natural phenomena. I’m pretty happy with my life now. Write a story with two fingers left over.